Approximately 45 minutes before the soul extraction occurred
The charity auction had come to an end. The once-tense and enthusiastic atmosphere of bidding faded into the gentle strains of elegant music. The auctioneer had long retreated, and the central display platform had been swiftly cleared away, replaced by champagne, desserts, light conversation, and laughter.
Guests in lavish attire continued to move about, exchanging pleasantries and business cards. Beneath the surface of social niceties flowed a hidden current of power—quiet probing, subtle negotiations, and veiled ambitions—like a polished mask of opulence concealing fierce rivalry.
Han Ling and Leander stood in the side hall of the venue, wine glasses untouched in their hands, wearing polite, practiced smiles suitable for social gatherings. Though his expression was calm, Han Ling's gaze never truly left Chen Qiyue and Ling Ning.
The two had stood up from the rear section of the hall, moving with unhurried steps and casual expressions, as if simply seeking a quieter place to chat. They occasionally nodded and smiled as they conversed, champagne flutes in hand, appearing like any other pair of guests wandering through the event.
Anyone not paying close attention would never suspect these two had any intention of slipping away unnoticed.
But Han Ling noticed.
His fingers twitched subtly inside his sleeve. Two talismans, each no larger than a palm, pressed soundlessly against his fingertips. As he brushed past the pair, he lifted his fingers slightly—one talisman discreetly adhered to the cuff of Chen Qiyue's sleeve, the other affixed to the back of Ling Ning's belt.
The talismans landed as softly as feathers, emitting no fluctuations of spiritual energy.
No one noticed his actions.
These weren't ordinary tracking talismans. Han Ling had modified them himself, based on his prior investigations into Chen Qiyue. The talismans used an extremely faint spiritual circuit to detect spatial distortions or specific array fluctuations. Once triggered, the talisman would heat up and activate the main seal to indicate the direction.
After planting the talismans, Han Ling and Leander didn't follow immediately. Instead, they stayed behind, continuing to socialize as if nothing had happened. Leaving too soon would only raise suspicion—especially since Chen Qiyue and Ling Ning were far too cautious to allow themselves to be followed easily.
So he waited, biding his time.
Leander leaned in slightly and murmured, "You sure they'll make their move here?"
"Not sure," Han Ling replied, his voice low and calm. "But they will make a move tonight. That much I'm certain of."
A charity gala like this was the perfect disguise—gatherings of righteous sects, brimming with merit-based spiritual energy, provided the ideal cover for abnormal spiritual flows. After a heated auction and a crowd lulled into a false sense of security, it was the perfect window.
They responded politely to several rounds of greetings and toasts, maintaining a proper distance. Han Ling occasionally exchanged a few words with several alchemy elders about recent resource policies—nothing out of the ordinary on the surface, though inwardly, he remained tightly wound.
Time ticked by.
And then, about forty-five minutes later, the talisman in Han Ling's pocket suddenly burned hot.
He frowned slightly, his palm instinctively tightening.
That heat was impossible to ignore—a telltale signal that the spiritual circuit had been forcefully triggered, detecting spatial interference.
His gaze sharpened. "The talisman's heating up."
Leander reacted instantly. With a quick glance, he placed his wine glass back onto a server's tray with seamless ease.
"Let's go. I'll notify Hang Zhongxuan and Cen Wenyu," Han Ling said, voice low and quick.
"Should I share our location with them?" Leander asked.
"Yes."
The two of them left the banquet hall without drawing attention, slipping into the arched corridor connecting the main venue to the VIP lounge area. The night breeze was cool. Music still played in the distance, and decorative lights shimmered like stars. No one noticed the pair leaving together—seemingly a couple, but their footsteps were laced with sharp vigilance.
Only when they reached an empty corridor corner did Han Ling pull the talisman from his pocket.
The paper was nearly translucent, its lines flickering like scorched etchings, leaving a faint, prickling heat in his fingers.
Taking a deep breath, he released it into the air. The talisman floated briefly before being drawn toward an unseen force, drifting toward the hotel's upper floors.
Leander immediately pulled out his light-brain device. "I'm syncing the location data. Hang Zhongxuan will receive the pathing."
"Good," Han Ling replied, and they followed closely behind the talisman.
Through corridors and into the elevator, they ascended toward the guest lodging suites.
This section was reserved for VIPs staying overnight. Thick carpet lined the hallway, and antique paintings and talismanic ornaments adorned the walls. The atmosphere was solemn and tranquil. Normally quiet—now, deathly still, as if even the air held its breath.
The room looked completely ordinary from the outside. Silent. Still. Han Ling stood at the door, hand raised—he could sense a faint, chaotic spiritual aura leaking from within. His brow twitched. Channeling spiritual energy into the lock, he heard a faint click—the door opened.
The lights were off. Cool air hissed softly from the vent, but an unnatural stillness gripped the room, and both men instinctively held their breath.
Han Ling stepped in first.
The moment he crossed the threshold, his spiritual sense slashed out like a blade, instantly locking onto three collapsed figures in the center of the room. All three were dressed in formalwear, faces pale and twisted, with faint purplish markings between their brows and over their hearts—like something had been forcibly torn from within.
Beneath them, an almost invisible array flickered weakly, breaking apart with the passage of time.
In a flash, Han Ling reached the edge of the formation, his gaze razor-sharp.
—A Soul Extraction Array.
But this array was clearly incomplete—rough, missing several key seals, and lacking the final soul-binding component. Activated forcefully, it would only cause the soul to rupture instead of allowing control over the corpse.
"No... this was put together hastily. Like they were in a rush," Han Ling muttered. He placed a hand over one of the corpses' chests and sent his spiritual power inward. Just as he suspected—the souls were gone, and the backlash had turned their blood toxic.
Leander stepped closer, his expression grave. "Well?"
"Their souls were extracted," Han Ling said flatly. "This array's unfinished. It can pull out a soul but not reanimate the body like the others. They died instantly. They weren't turned into the undead—they were outright erased."
He frowned. "The array must've just completed. Otherwise, the residual spiritual traces wouldn't be this clear."
"So it happened just now?"
"Yes. Just before we arrived."
At that moment, footsteps echoed from the hallway. Hang Zhongxuan entered, and the moment he saw the corpses and the remnants of the array, his expression darkened.
"They're dead," Han Ling reported, rising to his feet. "Their souls extracted. It's a degraded Soul Extraction Array."
Hang Zhongxuan stared silently at the corpses for a long moment before muttering, "These three… they were all well-known public figures in the entertainment industry. Good people, too."
A chill pressed in on the room.
Han Ling added quietly, "Someone like that isn't easy to target in public. But an auction full of people with righteous karmic energy… It's the perfect cover."
"If I were them, I'd pick this event too," Hang Zhongxuan murmured.
"But killing people here? In public?" Leander said, his voice cold. "That's way bolder than any political games in my family."
Hang Zhongxuan's eyes narrowed. "They knew there were rules in place here. That's why they weren't afraid. They had an exit strategy from the start."
Just then, his light-brain buzzed. After listening for a few seconds, his face twisted into a scowl.
"Cen Wenyu checked the hallway cameras—there's no footage of Chen Qiyue or Ling Ning. Nothing from the elevators, either."
He cursed under his breath. "They were prepared. They must've transferred the moment they got in."
Han Ling could have used spiritual force to forcibly extract memories—but he knew better now. The world had changed. That kind of reckless action left people either dead or brain-dead…
"Knowing who did it but being unable to arrest them is so damn frustrating," Hang Zhongxuan growled.
Leander, calm as ever, said, "Have Cen Wenyu check the main hall footage. If they escorted the victims out, they must've passed through there. It's harder to tamper with."
A few minutes later, Hang Zhongxuan received an update. His frown deepened.
"Cen Wenyu said the footage caught Chen Qiyue and Ling Ning chatting with the victims, then entering the elevator together... and that's it. The feed cuts out. No sign of where they went."
Silence fell again.
Then, Hang Zhongxuan's light-brain buzzed once more.
The screen displayed a familiar name—Jiang Mingyao.
He answered.
"Speak," he said curtly.
Jiang Mingyao's voice was solemn on the other end: "Ling Zhao… isn't wearing the ring anymore."
The call ended.
Hang Zhongxuan turned to Han Ling and relayed the news.
Han Ling's expression changed instantly. Words caught in his throat. The air seemed to freeze.
—The ring.
It wasn't on Ling Zhao anymore.
Which meant—
Was he really sealed inside the ring Chen Qiyue is wearing now?!
------------------------
We're just a few steps away from reaching the required collections for a contract.
If this story has kept you company, even just for a moment
please consider adding it to your library.
Quiet support means more than I can say in words.
Thank you, truly, for walking this path with me.